Normal Is the Watchword
by TheSpikeHeels
Summary: Set after OotP. AU. After Harry and Hermione begin to question who they could really trust, an attack on the Hogwarts Express presents them with the perfect escape. Hr/H, R/T.
1. Something In the Air

Blanket Disclaimer: The DNA test is back, turns out I'm not J.K. Rowling, go figure. Don't own it. Never will.

**Chapter One: There's Something in the Air**

Harry stood on the Hogsmeade platform, off to the side, away from the jostling crowd of students; his eyes focused on the majestic prospect that Hogwarts offered. He could still recall with perfect clarity the first time he saw the grand castle, still remembered the mingled sensation of wonder and disbelief he felt as they approached the school in boats. Now, five years later his feelings for this place were somewhat marred by the various sorrows and regrets he'd picked up along the way.

His mind heaved a weary sigh and not for the first time since Sirius' death, he silently wondered if things would ever feel normal, whatever that meant. But more than anything, he fervently hoped that the terrible dull ache he got in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of his godfather would fade sooner rather than later. It wasn't only the sorrow, but the small twinges of guilt that made it all the more difficult to cope, all the 'what ifs' that circled in his mind day and night and made his stomach churn and his head spin.

It'd been two weeks since the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Fourteen days since he'd seen Sirius fall through that damn veil. His dreams were plagued with memories of that night but the veil...the veil always took center stage, looming ominously in front of him, taunting him.

Harry felt a light hand on his shoulder and his musings were cut short. He heard Hermione spoke's soft voice, "Harry," as expected, he didn't respond. She sighed resignedly and shook his shoulder gently, "Come on, Harry. The train's just about ready to leave. We don't want to get left behind."

His eyes remained unwaveringly on the view before him as he spoke in a low, nearly hollow voice, "It's gets easier, doesn't it?" He finally turned to face her, his eyes misty and sad. "It has to get better. Right?"

The desperate sorrow in his gaze and voice broke her heart, her eyes stung and she had to swallow a couple times before answering in an equally low voice, "Yes. Eventually."

Her hand slid from his shoulder and down his arm as she took hold of his hand. She squeezed it gently, reassuringly, before muttering a quiet, "Come on." and tugging at his hand for him to follow her onto the train.

Their senses were assaulted once they stepped over the train's threshold. There was a tangible buzz in the air as students bustled about their compartments, most bemoaning their lack of elbow room, while the girls relayed the latest gossip in barely hushed tones and the boys argued (rather over-zealously in Hermione's opinion), over which Quidditch Team would make it into the finals this year.

The second the two friends came into view of the first compartment however, the racket emanating from its occupants died down and they stared at the duo almost as though expecting something to happen at any moment. As soon as they were out of sight of one compartment, the buzz reignited more vigorously than before, while the following compartment quieted. They both faltered slightly at the reaction, but Hermione recovered quickly, squaring her shoulders discreetly, her jaw set as she squeezed Harry's hand once again, urging him forward.

As they continued down the corridor the pulse of noise gained a nearly rhythmic quality, at times almost gaining a rhythm that was reminiscent of waves hitting the shore during a storm. They studiously avoided the mixture of glares and curious looks that were shot their way, both instead opting to look straight ahead. By the time they reached the compartment Hermione had secured for them beforehand, they had walked nearly the entire length of the train car. Hermione slid the door shut with barely contained violence as soon as they were inside and sighed, aggravation and relief intermingling.

They both leaned their against the now closed door, hands still clasped together, before they both heaved themselves off the wall to place their bags in the overhead compartment, Hermione mumbling discontentedly, "Well, that was a bloody nightmare."

Harry's eyebrows shot up as he whipped around to stare at her in wide-eyed incredulity. He couldn't remember having ever heard Hermione swear before.

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly at his expression, "You know, I'd forgotten how unpleasant it was having the entire school watching us last year. After Skeeter's article about us, I mean. I was so put out at having everyone talking about us, our personal lives," she sighed tiredly, "But now, I guess I can't really blame them for wanting to know. This isn't about some idle piece of gossip. It's bigger than that, this time it affects them too, even if most of them don't realize it yet."

She looked over to Harry and was unsurprised to see him staring at her, looking utterly shaken, and a little green. Not much had been said between the six about their Ministry escapade, nor what their most recent revelations meant not only for them personally, but for the Wizarding World as well. It was the first time any of them confronted the enormity of the situation and had actually voiced it. There was a war on the horizon and, like it or not, they were at the center of it.

Harry stared, open-mouthed and unnerved for a few seconds before suddenly pulling Hermione into a desperate, fear induced hug. She laid her head on his shoulder, her arms wound around his neck while Harry's encircled her waist, his face pressed into the side of her neck.

Still locked in their comfortable embrace, Harry broke the calm quiet, "We're going to make it through this, aren't we 'Mione?"

He spoke so quietly, so obviously looking for reassurance, it caught her off-guard. She knew there was a good chance one, or possibly both of them, wouldn't survive the inevitably approaching war, but that was the last thing he needed to hear right now.

She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, they were filled with doubt and worry. She smiled up at him warmly, "Of course we will. We're us."

He looked at her in appreciation and responded with a small smile of his own. The moment ended abruptly when the ground suddenly began shaking violently. They both jumped in surprise and glanced around looking ready to pounce. After a second glance out the window revealed the moving landscape, realization washed over both their faces as they looked at each other and laughed heartily at their blatant display of paranoia.

Hermione eased herself out of Harry's comfortable embrace, letting her hands slide down his arms and giving his hands a quick squeeze of reassurance, and walked over to the seats, all the while reaching up to grab her bag and trying to undo the gold brooch on her robes with her free hand. Her bag dropped onto the seat just as the brooch at last relented; she let out a satisfied 'Ha!' and slid out of her soft robes gracefully, revealing a pair of dark wash jeans and a black, cap-sleeved blouse.

Harry followed suit. Opting against trying the skilled juggling act Hermione had put on, he draped his robes over his arm before grabbing his knapsack from its place above the seats. He folded his robes as best he could, trying to minimize the amount of space they took up.

He turned around just in time to see Hermione shove her robes into her black leather messenger bag unceremoniously. Harry stared at her bag quizzically, it was by no means small, but it definitely wasn't large enough to fit a set of robes in it either. He smiled faintly as he realized it was more than likely enchanted to hold more than it seemed. _'She must have found the spell during one of her all night study sessions,'_ he thought fondly.

Hermione was now rummaging through her bag for her book. Finding it at the very bottom, she muttered an irritated, 'Of course.' and sat down across from Harry. They sat in an amiable silence, each immersed in their respective distractions. Suddenly something occurred to Harry, it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Ron? He looked across to where Hermione sat, immersed in her small paperback, "'Mione, where is everybody?"

She started slightly at the sound of his voice, but was quick on the uptake, "Well, Neville's with Luna, Ginny's with Dean and, knowing Ron, he's probably _right_ there sitting between them." She silently laughed at the silly image that invoked.

Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement, "How do you think _that's_ going?"

"Well, it's Ron and Ginny, so you know there's bound to be fireworks sooner or later. The former being most likely." She mumbled under her breath.

They both lapsed into silence once more only for it to be shattered not five minutes later, this time by the loud bang of the door as it was shoved open by Ron as he entered noisily, a scowl on his face, and threw himself into the spot next to Hermione.

"Unbelievable! I have as much right to be there as she does. I mean he's _my_ friend!"

Hermione didn't bother to look at him, but smirked knowingly nonetheless, "Ginny kicked you out then?"

Harry smiled while Ron's expression soured further. He sat, seething and began muttering under his breath (no doubt about Ginny).

When the volume of his grousing started increasing and showed no sign of stopping, Hermione and Harry shared a tired look, both silently agreeing one of them should say something. She shot him a half-hearted glare when it became clear the task would fall to her.

She tried to control her temper and be sympathetic but only managed to sound annoyed, "Honestly, Ron! She's 14 years old. She _should_ be dating and having fun. Stop being such a _prat_ and just let her be!"

Ron stared open-mouthed, shocked and a more than a little frightened. Since when did Hermione use that kind of language? She fixed him with a glare, daring him to argue.

Instead, he swallowed thickly, "Right, well, let's just forget it," he looked at his watch nervously, "Prefects meeting in a couple minutes, we should get going."

Hermione huffed softly and turned back to her book. "You go ahead. I'm staying here."

Ron's face twisted into bewilderment while Harry shot her a look of mingled curiosity and wonder.

Ron voiced his obvious confusion, "What do you mean you're staying _here_?"

His question was sharp, so fully demanding an answer that it had her inhaling deeply in an attempt to tame the ire it kindled.

"Well, in order to go to the Prefects meeting you'd have to be a Prefect, which I no longer am." She replied in an even, almost light tone, silently rejoicing at the amount of control she managed to exert over her voice.

Harry's expression turned to one of shock but before he had even opened his mouth to speak, Ron's voice reverberated through the compartment, "What's that suppose to mean!"

Hermione sighed tiredly, "It means that as of today I have neither the responsibilities, nor the privileges that come with being a Prefect."

Ron's expression was livid, "What? You can't do that!"

She gave a short, contemptuous laugh, "All evidence to the contrary. Now, I know you're use to telling Ginny what to do with her life, but don't you dare even _think_ you have any right to tell _me_ what to do. My life, my decision, so I suggest you drop this right now and go. You don't want keep Lavender waiting." She relaxed back against her seat and turned her head resolutely toward the window, effectively eliminating any possible continuation of the discussion.

Once again Harry were left speechless by his friend's suddenly brazen attitude. Ron's temper withered somewhat under Hermione's fierce demeanor and he walked out of the compartment.

As soon as the door clicked shut Hermione exhaled loudly, shaking her head slightly, trying to dispel the irritation she still felt.

Harry eyed his best friend in thoughtfully, "'Mione..."

"Because it's not important to me anymore," One look at Harry and she knew that wasn't going to cut it. "Because, the way things are heading, I'd say there are bigger things to worry about than who's breaking curfew." She laughed derisively.

Harry smiled wryly at her. He liked this new side of Hermione, "But why didn't you just tell Ron all that? Don't you think he'd would've understood?"

There was a flash of annoyance in her eyes before her face shifted, looking resigned, "No. I just - things between us have been..._tense_ lately. Everything he says or does just gets on my nerves," she half growled.

Harry gave her an odd look, "So? It's not exactly a secret that you two get on each other's nerves."

She grimaced, "I know, but it's gotten worse. We can hardly be in the same room for more than two minutes without getting into a row about something, _anything_ really. He doesn't seem to realize the magnitude of what's coming and it's just _so_..." she shook her head as her eyes wandered toward the window and lingered for a few seconds before a large sigh escaped her and she turned back to Harry, "Anyhow, have you talked to Dumbledore since...since that night?"

It was his turn to grimace, "If you count raving at him like a maniac and nearly destroying his office, then, yeah, I suppose I have."

Her only reply was a sympathetic, "Right."

"Besides, I don't really see there's anything left to say." Hermione shot him a questioning look, prodding him to continue his train of thought. When he spoke again he sounded weary, "I just mean that even if I did try talking to him, I'd wager he wouldn't be very willing to answer any of my questions let alone volunteer any information on his own."

She released a tired sigh and glanced out the window to her right, "Right, so if we want any more information, we're going to have to find it out ourselves. It'd be better still if we could get out from under his thumb though. The fact that he insists on making you stay with those sorry excuses for people _year_ after year..." She shook her head in anger.

Harry nodded in grim agreement, "He says its something to do with the blood wards that are in place there. It keeps Voldemort out and my presence recharges them or something," at Hermione's skeptical look he continued, "Yeah, I'm not sure I buy that either, and after this whole business with the prophecy, I'm staring to wonder what else he's kept from us. Are there any other pieces of life-changing information he's been holding back from us?"

"More importantly, why hasn't he been training you for this supposed 'final battle' against Voldemort? I mean, he's known about the prophecy for _years_, why hasn't he been helping you prepare? For that matter, why didn't he tell you about the prophecy last year, after Voldemort's return?"

Harry grit his teeth, glaring out at the passing landscape and spoke scathingly, "He said he didn't want to ruin my childhood, he didn't want to place such a heavy burden on me," he scoffed. "I doubt he would have even told me of the prophecy this year if we hadn't found out about the original at the Ministry."

"Well, if we've learned anything from this whole mess its that we can't rely on Dumbledore if all he's going to give us are half-truths and platitudes. Not if we're going to survive this. We need a plan. More importantly, we to train."

Harry cocked an eyebrow in suspicion at Hermione's tone, "Why do I get the feeling you already have something in mind?"

She smiled mysteriously and replied, "Because you know me _far_ too well."

Any further conversation was put on hold when an owl tapping at their compartment window startled them. The duo watched for a second as the minuscule brown owl tried valiantly to keep up with the train's speed before Hermione leaned over and let the poor animal in. It fairly dropped into the room, involuntarily landing in Hermione's lap. She frowned as she stroked its head and relieved it of its burden, while Harry dug around his knapsack for the owl treats he usually kept on hand for Hedwig.

The owl perked up considerably when it caught sight of the treats and flew over to Harry's outstretched hand, quickly pecking at the treats before flying out the window once again. Harry looked up when Hermione inhaled sharply across from him as she stared down at the letters. She met his gaze sadly as she handed him his letter, "Gringotts."

Both sat in silence, staring at their respective letters in trepidation before Hermione sniffed quietly, discreetly wiping away a stray tear before sliding her thumb beneath the blood red wax seal of the letter. The letter was handled gingerly and Hermione looked for all the world as though she expected it to burst into flames at any given moment.

She cleared her throat delicately as she unfolded the letter and began reading it, her brow furrowing as her gaze continued down the page. Halfway through the missive she saw Harry from the corner of her eye as he inhaled deeply and opened his letter.

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**Due to the death of one, Sirius Orion Black, on the 18th of June, all accounts, possessions and properties previously owned by Mr. Black have been frozen and will be held in trust until the reading of his will.**

**You, and all others named the will shall be contacted shortly hereafter by Mr. Black's legal representation. Should you fail to attend the reading at the appointed time, or choose not to accept that which is bequeathed to you, the legacy shall, as per wizarding law, be considered forfeited to the Ministry of Magic to be distributed and utilized as they see fit.**

**Sincerely,**

**Ragnok, Head Goblin of Gringrotts Wizarding Bank, London Branch**

Hermione read her own letter once more before trading with Harry. She read the letter twice before her hands to her lap. She glanced over curiously at Harry who was looking equally curious. Harry shot her a look before offering up, "Odd." She only hummed in agreement, "Hermione, what do you know about this wizarding law they mentioned?"

Hermione looked thrown for a second. Her interest had been piqued by something else entirely, "Oh. Well, it was a part of a series of laws the Ministry passed in an effort to raise funds during the first war against Voldemort. They were desperate, the war was escalating, Voldemort and his followers were getting bolder, and resources were running low. So they started levying taxes on everything from fire whiskey to Honeyduke's chocolates. They even went so far as to impose a tax on lycanthropes, which some say only gave them even more reason to join Voldemort in the end. But, that inheritance law was their most successful. With so many people dying in such quick succession a lot of wizarding families were wiped out entirely, leaving no one to readily claim the family properties and money. The law left the Ministry free to swoop in and claim it all for themselves. Quite a crafty solution given the political climate of the time," she smiled wryly and shrugged, "Well, by Ministry standards anyhow."

Harry snorted a laugh, then frowned as if something occurred to him, "Hang on. As far as I know there're no taxes on lycanthropes or any of the other things you mentioned. Why is the inheritance law still in place? Why wasn't it repealed along with the others after the war?"

Hermione smiled thoughtfully at Harry's astuteness. She's always known he was smarter than most people gave him credit for; he just needed the proper focus. "It was. Then, the Minister of Magic of the time, Millicent Bagnold, retired. She was what would be referred to as a hardliner nowadays, nothing could sway her from her loyalty to the Ministry, which led to the prosecution of some of the worst pureblood death eaters, including the Lestrange family," she hesitated for a second, wondering if she should divulge the next bit of information, "She was effective, Harry, but she held onto her principles to the point that she was blinded by them. It blurred the line between justice and vigilantism. Which is probably how Sirius ended up in Azkaban without a trial."

She let that sink in, silently watching as a range of emotions flashed through Harry's expression before settling into the practiced mask of stoicism he seemed to being wearing more and more lately. He signaled for her to continue and she coughed quietly, "She was succeeded by Fudge in the early 90s and...Well, we know just what kind of mettle our 'esteemed' minister is made of in comparison, don't we? The law was pushed through seven years ago, after a rather _convenient_ reshuffle of the Wizengamot," Harry sat listening with rapt attention, eyes narrowed, as if half-expecting what was coming next and Hermione smirked, "And, yes, this reshuffle saw the addition of Lucius Malfoy and one Dolores Umbridge as well as six other members with deep pockets and questionable allegiances to match," Hermione laughed a little bitterly, "I would be genuinely surprised if even _Fudge_ knew what team he's playing for these days considering how many masks he wears."

Harry was quick to question, "But what could any of them gain from passing the inheritance law?"

"Well, Fudge had the most obvious gain, he would gain hundreds of thousands of galleons worth of money and properties each year, all of which would be at his disposal. Politics is all about back door deals, even in the Wizarding World. Fudge probably promised the _newest_ Wizengamot members a cut of whatever came to ministry as result of the law if they voted in his favor."

Harry threw his arms up in outrage, "Is there anyone in this bloody government how _isn't_ corrupt, stupid, or just plain incompetent!"

Hermione smiled slightly, glancing out the window, "I wouldn't hold my breath," She turned back to Harry, gaze intent, "Politics aside," she paused, seemed to consider that statement and rolled her eyes, "Well, sort of. Sirius' will isn't being executed by Gringrotts."

She said it as if imparting something of great importance, but Harry couldn't see it. He stared at her blankly, "So?"

"There are only two reasons someone seeks legal representation outside of Gringotts when it comes to handling money and property transfers," she explained patiently, "One: they're looking to leave everything to Muggles, which is more easily handled by an external, wizard operated legal firm. Unlikely in this case. Two: they're looking for more discretion than the goblins can offer them, namely from the Ministry. Gringotts is in the control of the Goblins, but even they aren't immune to Ministry interference if they _really_ want something done."

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes focused somewhere passed her shoulder before returning to her face, "So, you think there's something in Sirius' will that he wanted to keep secret?" She nodded and Harry shook his head, "What?"

There was a pause and Hermione's lips twitched upwards for a fleeting moment, "I have a hunch, but best not say anything right now. We'll find out soon enough."

Harry watched as she turned to lean back into the wall, her long legs stretched out on the seat, and spoke up, suddenly wary of the silence, "So, what are you doing this Summer?"

Knowing what he was about, she smiled sincerely, "Well, my parents are on a business trip in Australia meeting with a potential partner, so I've got free reign of the house, for a couple weeks anyway. Beyond that, I don't have much planned."

Harry's brows pulled together at that, "I thought you and your parents usually went on holiday together during the summer."

She shrugged lightly, "Not this year. They're planning on expanding the practice, so that's taking up most of their free time these days. I thought I'd do some research into defensive wards actually, runes and the like. You never know, it might be of use to us later on," her expression shifted to something akin to sorrow and concern as she considered him, "What about you, Harry? Are you going to be alright?"

He turned his gaze to the window as he replied, "I'll be fine."

His response sound so detached, so habitual, he was getting better and better at it as the years went by, and it scared her. She went to sit next to him and nudged his shoulder with hers. He turned around, surprised to find her beside him.

She slid her slim hand into his and squeezed it lightly, "Listen, if you want any company, to the will reading, or if you just need a break from the Dursleys, promise me you'll send Hedwig, or phone me. I'll be there, no questions asked."

The sincerity in her voice caught Harry unprepared and found his eyes tearing up at the offer. He pulled her into a hug, tangling his hand in her soft, wavy hair, "I promise. Thank you, 'Mione."

Hermione's response was muffled by his shoulder, "Anytime."

They released each other but neither moved away, each taking comfort in the other's proximity.

They spent the remaining hour of the journey enjoying a decidedly lighter atmosphere, only moving apart when they heard the train's whistle, signaling their approach to King's Cross. Hermione looked outside and was surprised to see the sky had darkened considerably in the course of their journey. She vaguely heard Harry saying something as he pulled down their bags but paid him no mind as she frowned and stood to get a better look at the sky. It wasn't just overcast, it was blanketed with pitch-black clouds, they looked...unnatural somehow. A shiver ran up her spine and she shuddered violently.

"...Not that I'm complaining I suppose." Harry threw Hermione a smile that quickly slipped when he saw that Hermione hadn't moved. "'Mione?"

He touched her shoulder lightly and she gasped at the contact turning towards him. Her hazel eyes were filled with muted fear when they met his concern green ones. "Harry, something's wrong."

They had barely glanced out the window long enough to process what they were seeing before there was a deafening BANG! Hermione felt Harry's arm wrap tightly around her waist as the train jerked violently to the side and they were both flung off their feet.


	2. One, Maybe Two Ways Out

**Chapter Two: One, Maybe Two Ways Out**

Hermione groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly, as her senses registered the terrified screams that filled the air. Her mind quickly caught up to reality, everything was too sharp, now. She felt shards of glass beneath her, jabbing into her entire right side and in her hair. More alarmingly, she felt a weight across her waist and legs, pinning her down. She breathed deeply, trying to stave off the panic that was already constricting her throat. Except, it wasn't panic, was it? She felt the beginnings of terror creep up on her as she realized it was too hot.

Brain running at full speed now, she struggled under the weight of whatever was on her legs when something occurred to her, "Harry!"

Her voice was hoarse from the smoke that had started to fill the compartment. There was no answer. She hastily tried to shift herself onto her back to get a better view of her surroundings. She struggled against the weight on her legs, bracing her weight on her elbows as she tried to free them. Pain flared in her right shoulder and she fell back onto the glass littered ground with a gasp of pain. Breathing hard, she hoisted herself up, gritting her teeth against the pain that seemed to be coursing through her entire body and managing to sit up halfway.

She held her injured arm close to her body, still breathing hard from the pain. Her eyes rapidly took stock of her surroundings. The compartment was upside down; the door had come unhinged and was currently sitting on her legs, a mangled mess of bent metal and shattered glass. She glanced to her left, eyes searching for the debris that was responsible for the weight on her mid-drift, and felt her stomach plummet. "Harry!"

Harry lay on his side, his right arm still wound around her waist, he was unconscious, bruised and bloodied. She reached over and gave his shoulder a shake, calling his name desperately, but to no avail. She could feel the heat and smoke of the fire snaking towards them, the air was getting opaque, flames licking around the gaping hole that had been a doorway mere minutes earlier. She needed to get them out of here, she needed her wand. She looked around frantically for her bag, spotting it on the luggage rails on her far left. No, no, no!

She debated yelling out for help, but almost instantly decided against it. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever happened here today it was no accident. The wrong people may come looking and the last thing they needed was to add a bloody Death Eater to their list of problems right now. Or ever, really. She growled in frustration and set her jaw determinedly. No choice. She needed to get free the old-fashioned way. Bracing herself on her arms again, Hermione clenched her jaw tightly and dragged her legs out from under the mangled door. She tried to muffle her scream as her shoulder and left ankle burned in excruciating pain at the last tug, dropping onto her back in relief, experimentally moving her legs.

Her left ankle was broken, she was sure. She couldn't move it if her life depended on it. '_And it might,' _she thought cynically.

She heard Harry groaned quietly and looked over to find him shifting onto his back beside her. Hermione nearly cried in relief. He was alright! She quickly examined him visually, her pain-addled brain taking note of the blood running down his right arm. Well...about as alright as she was. Still reeling from the pain in her ankle, she watched as he looked around him in confusion before a flash of panic crossed his face and he sat up, peering through the thick smoke that had begun enveloping them frantically, "'Mione!"

Heart rate still elevated, she sat up wobbly and placed a hand on Harry's bloodied arm, "Harry, I'm here." His hand found hers and gripped it almost painfully as he peered into her pain-streaked face in concern, "I'm fine, but we need to get out of here. I need my wand, pass me my bag." She gestured to the luggage rails behind him.

He took in the fact that the fire was now approaching with alarming speed and jumped into action, finding both his and Hermione's bags and tossing them between them. Hermione mumbled a quiet 'thanks' quickly extracted her wand and pointed it at the encroaching flames, "_Aguamenti_!" A large fountain of water spouted out from the tip of her wand, extinguishing most of the flames. Harry lifted his wand to copy the movement, their combined efforts making quick work of the remaining fire, leaving the air damp and soot.

Harry moved to give Hermione a hand up. She lifted a finger, silently asking for a moment and pointed her wand at her broken ankle, muttering a quick, '_Episkey_' that was followed in quick succession by a violent crack! And Hermione's half muffled scream as she cursed. Harry flinched in surprise and alarm at both the noise and her choice of language.

Hermione easily jumped to her feet, the shards of glass on her clothes clattering quietly to the ground, and Harry grabbed her hand once more and pulled her towards the empty doorway. Hermione however, dug her heels in and whispered frantically, "Harry, wait!" He looked back at her in confusion and she fought the urge to roll her eyes and pointed her wand at him, murmuring a quick incantation that left Harry feeling the familiar all-over wash of cold he now associated with the Disillusionment Charm, before casting the same charm on herself, absently explaining, "We can't just walk out of here. The platform is probably crawling with Death Eaters."

"Well, that spell won't help us much in that case."

Hermione sighed as she lifted her bag over her head, taking care that its strap rested on her uninjured shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, she took a few seconds to locate their trunks and shrunk them in one fell swoop, dropping hers in her bag and handing Harry his to do the same. She took out a gray cotton motorcycle jacket, hanging it over the bag, "No, but it'll give us a fighting chance of getting out alive. We just have to be careful not to draw attention to ourselves."

Harry followed suit, swinging his beat up rucksack over his left shoulder, "Right," he peered at her in concern, "You're not hurt anywhere else, are you?"

A grimace crossed her lips as she shook her, "Just my shoulder, its fine."

The look of worry didn't leave his face, "Where will we go, headquarters?"

She shook her head, "No, it's under lock and key until the will reading, remember? We'll have to find somewhere else to hide out for a while."

Harry was getting frustrated now. Couldn't they have 'one' normal day? "Where, the Burrow! I reckon the Death Eaters know where it is by now!"

Hermione nearly growled in response. Shite, her shoulder was killing her! "I don't know!" she pinched her eyes shut for second, trying to clear her mind of the pain and softened her tone, "Let's just focus on getting out of the station in one piece first, alright?"

Harry looked shamed-faced. "Right, let's go."

A quick nod of her head and the two made their way to the gaping hole in the side of the compartment, Hermione leading the way, each gripping their wand. They made their way through the short causeway that usually led to the next car, glass crunching beneath their feet as they went. Hermione held Harry's free arm in a death grip, as they peered into the other compartments, hoping to find other survivors. The one directly across from had been empty, to their great relief. One look into the one adjacent one however, yielded a much more gruesome scene.

Hermione had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from being sick and she felt Harry go rigid beside her. The compartment had suffered a similar fate as their own, but at least one of its occupants wasn't so lucky as them. Pavarti Patil lay on the floor, her once lively, deep eyes were glossed over, staring unseeingly across the compartment. Blood pooled around her head, a steady stream still pouring out of a large gaping wound at the side of her head. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look closely enough to determine what had caused it and Harry was already pulling her away, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

They headed to the doorway at the end of the car, Hermione quietly taking deep breaths to stave off the nausea. The pair cautiously poked their heads out of the car, glad of the relatively fresh air, and tried to get their bearings. Both took in the carnage that lay some yards away, each saw something different.

Harry grit his teeth against the soul-shattering screams. His blood boiled at seeing the Hogwarts Express in tatters. The front half of the train was nearly obliterated, blackened by fire and smoke, crushed. He angrily thought of how many students, innocent children must have died in that part of the train alone. His fists clenched tighter and tighter as he thought of Dumbledore. _The 'great' and 'wise' Chief Warlock. Not wise enough to keep from being over-confident apparently. _Heshut his eyes against the screaming. So much pain. Did they feel pain in the end? Had Pavarti? Were they afraid? Could they feel anything at all? God, he hoped not.

Hermione detached herself from any emotion as she witnessed the horror before her. Only a couple of Death Eaters remained, scouring the wreckage like bloodhounds, yet she could still hear bloodcurdling screams close by. She firmly planted herself in an analytical mindset. If they'd learned anything from their escapade at the Ministry it was that emotions were dangerous, they would only lead to more trouble in these situations.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, blocking out the screams before opening them and quickly taking in scene of the wreckage. The front of the train was all but gone, the engine having likely exploded. The first five carriages were mangled beyond recognition. Chance of survival was minimal. Blunt force trauma, burns and smoke inhalation would be the most likely causes of death. She began tallying up the probable number of deaths that had occurred in that section of the train. Four compartments in each car, twenty compartments total. They had been packed, she remembered, mostly first and second years and the Prefects compartment. 150 to 200, she concluded. Her eyes watered at the thought, wondering if Ron had been there, but she forced her mind to focus on the evidence. Her eyes wandered further down the wreckage. The two middle section carriages were lying on their side, suggesting the attack was lateral rather than frontal. Students in those compartments were almost assuredly injured, but most likely alive. The last two cars, including the one she and Harry were currently in, had snapped off the rest of the train. That suggested the attack was either executed with one very powerful spell cast by one powerful wizard, or there were multiple spell impacts. The latter was the most likely given the extent of fire damage. Her eyes slid shut. They'd been lucky.

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she gasped as more screams and desperate shouts for help were carried by the wind from somewhere beyond the wreckage. But the platform was almost deserted, where were they coming from? She looked over at Harry who still had his eyes screwed shut, jaw tense and allowed a trickle of fear enter her body and let out a shuddering sigh. _Focus, we just have to focus on the problem at hand._ Two Death Eaters stood between them and their escape, but for once, they had the upper hand, the element of surprise.

She turned to Harry, who was now glaring murderously at the two figures poking through the wreckage of the cars a few yards ahead of them and whispered, "There're only two. I'll take the one on the right," she paused, suddenly struck by something, "Actually, stand still." She pointed her wand at him, ignoring the confusion in Harry's eyes as she muttered a long incantation, moving her wand around Harry's form. When she was finished they both emanated a bright blue light that glowed steadily for a good half minute before disappearing entirely. At Harry's silent question Hermione only offered, "The Trace. I'll explain later."

He nodded stiffly, still looking about ready to tear the two Death Eaters to bits. "On three." He growled.

Hermione quietly agreed, but grabbed his arm and whispered in caution, "We'll have to be quick and quiet. Send up a blue spark once it's all clear."

Harry only grunted in response and started the count, "One, two, three."

They quickly headed off in opposite directions, making sure to stay low and quiet as they crept around the wreckage to their targets. Hermione crept closely alongside the toppled train cars, only stopping when she was separated from the Death Eater by one car. She cautiously peered around the twisted hunk of metal and her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she heard the bulky figure muttering something to himself. Her body reacted instinctively, her feet automatically dragging her further forward, fearing he had found another survivor. When she got a clear view of the man however, she felt a cold flush of anger-fueled adrenaline entered her bloodstream and her jaw clenched compulsively. The _man _had his wand pointed at the body of a young boy lying in the compartment, very obviously dead, and had proceeded to casually dismember the child limb from limb.

It should have made her physically sick, but all Hermione feel was fury. Instinct took over reason once again as her wand steadily leveled itself at the man's head and she viciously muttered two spells in quick succession, "_Muffliato_. _Confringo_."

She barely flinched as the man's head was blown clearly off, blood and brain matter splattering to the ground he fell upon. Her eyes instead fell on the tattered and bloodied body of the young boy that monster violated. With a quiet sniffle and a muttered word she conjured a gray blanket and gently laid it over the body with trembling hands.

Suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She turned and only made it a few feet from the gruesome scene before relieving herself of the bile that had been slowly creeping up her throat. She wiped her mouth, feeling as if someone had cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx at her and sunk to the floor, breathing heavily.

A couple minutes passed before she shakily wiped away her tears and stood, squaring her shoulders, grimacing when her right shoulder protested at the action. From the corner of her eye she saw a bright blue spark go up from the other side of the train and made her way over the tracks. Harry stood over a very dead Death Eater of his own, looking similarly shaken. Hermione pressed a hand over her mouth and groaned at the sight. Judging by the entrails currently littering the ground, Harry had cast a _Diffindo_ at the man.

Harry's head snapped up at sound of Hermione's moan, his eyes immediately widening in shock and shame, "I-I had too." Hermione looked over at him as he stumbled over his explanation, which only served to make him panic escalate further. "He was-" he swallowed thickly, vaguely gesturing at the wreckage, giving up when Hermione inhaled deeply, "It just happened."

Hermione could only nod as she leaned against the train car behind her and moved her hand to her head, closing her eyes as she did. She looked very much to Harry as if she were about to pass out and he quickly made his way towards her. Closing the distance between them in three seconds flat, Harry gently grasped her uninjured arm, his other hand resting on her waist, ready to support her if necessary.

Instead, she only leaned her head against the harsh metal and explained breathlessly, "I just blew a Death Eater's head off. He was tearing a little boy apart. Literally." Hermione placed a hand on his chest as she pushed herself off the wreckage, looking up at him reassuringly, "I'm not judging you Harry, just feeling a bit nauseous."

Their hands joined as Harry pulled Hermione's close to him and they slogged their way around one of the larger pieces of wreckage separating them from the King's Cross barrier with heavy hearts. Wands out, hands tightly clasped together, the pair made their way towards the screams that still pierced the air. Simultaneously, they each let out a sharp breath as they were confronted with the scene they had both expected and dreaded.

The barrier was gone. Nothing stood between King's Cross and Platform 9 3/4. Chaos reigned. The ground was covered in shards of glass from the station's skylight roof while people, Wizards and Muggles alike, were fleeing the platforms. A terrifying number, mostly Muggles judging by their attire, lay either dead or dying where the barrier had previously been. Death Eaters were swarming across the rest of King's Cross and as Harry and Hermione ventured further into the chaos, bobbing and weaving between panicked people, they saw that most of the commotion was centered around the station's exits.

Apparently they hadn't been unconscious for as long as they had thought. As far as they could see there were no Aurors on the scene apart from Tonks. She and Remus were currently firing spell after spell at the masked cowards in the immediate area. And they definitely weren't taking any prisoners either, firing everything from stunners to the same blasting curse Hermione had herself used earlier. Upon seeing the swarms of figures draped in black, Hermione had had to check her initial reflex to cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx over the area. The Aurors would have to apparate in first, though the thought of leaving anything of too great import in the hands of the Ministry left her feeling uneasy these days. In the meantime, they had to keep moving.

Amongst the insanity that surrounded them as they fled toward the streets of London, Harry caught sight of a large group of redheads he immediately recognized the Weasley family, prompting him to nudge Hermione before the group disappeared before their eyes. Each looked at the other in relief, feeling a weight lift. If nothing else they could at least take solace in the knowledge that all the Weasleys had escaped unscathed.

Hermione tugged Harry toward the epicenter of chaos, both looking for a way through the barrage of Death Eaters that surrounded the station's expansive, rounded facade. The pair moved in tandem as they worked to quickly edge their way out of Kings Cross, trying to blend into the large swarm of people heading in the same direction. They could now clearly see spells flying into the air like fireworks as they neared the enormous glass walls of King's Cross. Once they were in view of the busy London streets, Hermione slid her jacket on, slipping her wand up her sleeve, and noticed Harry do the same with his own, unwilling to risk drawing attention to themselves.

When they finally broke through the crowd, rather than relief, Hermione and Harry felt a familiar horror well up inside them. Death Eaters were holding their ground on the pavement just outside the station sending Hermione and Harry into a tizzy as they dodged the barrage of spells that filled the air, all the while clinging to each other to keep from getting separated.

Curse after curse was being fired viciously and indiscriminately at anyone and everyone in range and Hermione and Harry found themselves replying in kind, discreetly firing any and every curse, hex and jinx they could think of at the Death Eaters blocking their way. Hermione fired a particularly nasty gouging spell at one Death Eater after they'd shot a curse at a little girl without a second thought.

At the sound of several cracks breaking through the surrounding cacophony, the pair quickly turned to see a group of Aurors battling it out with the Death Eaters a few yards to right. The Death Eaters seemed to take this as a sign of retreat, dodging rather than firing, but before any of them had time to get away Hermione pointed her wand directly above her head and cast the Anti-Disapparition Jinx she had been denied earlier. The resulting confusion gave Hermione a chance to move further out onto the pavement and get her bearings. They were at the front of the station, making the road ahead of them Euston or Pancras. The mess of people and spells distorted everything around her and her gaze wandered, searching for a discernible landmark to guide her before resting on the post office across the road. _Euston then. We need to go right._

With a cautious glance at the battle still being waged behind them, Hermione threw Harry a quick, 'let's go' before breaking into run, pulling a bewildered Harry behind her.

Their run slowed to a fast walk as distance turned the sounds of battle into loud echoes that pursued them down the street. Despite their presumably clean escape they couldn't help but look over their shoulders every once in a while.

A stray cat chose that moment to leap out at them from an adjacent alley. Hermione gave a small shriek and would have blasted the poor thing with a stunner had Harry not caught her arm at the last second. That seemed to be the last straw for Hermione and her calm composure suddenly cracked as she uttered the last thing Harry expected, "Oh no! Crookshanks!"

Harry pulled a face, "What?"

Hermione began to power walk down the road once again, shooting Harry a slightly frantic look while Harry followed behind worriedly, "Crookshanks! I let them put him with the other pets on the train because he tends to get so antsy on the train rides to and from school. I have no idea if he's alright," she gasped then, startling Harry, "What about Hedwig!"

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and spoke calmly, "'Mione, calm down. I sent Hedwig to Privet Drive ahead of me. She's a smart owl, once I don't show up she'll find me somehow. And as for Crookshanks..." he trailed off uncertainly and looked at her sadly, "Well, we'll worry about him later."

Hermione nodded sadly and took a deep breath, visibly calmer. "Right." She replied quietly.

Harry rubbed her arms comfortingly before entwining their hands once again, "Come on. Let's keep walking," Harry took a moment to take in their surroundings for the first time. _Where are we? _""'Mione, where a we going anyway?"

That seems to pull Hermione back to the present and she resumed their walk, "My car. I parked just down the road."

"Car? You're 16, how do you even have a license?"

"I don't."

Incredulity, shock, amazement. It would be quite fair and extremely accurate to say that Harry was experiencing all three at the shocking and continually surfacing new facets to one Hermione Granger. She was bolder, more willing to break the rules in order to get things done, flouting authority, she had apparently even managed to brake the Ministry's Trace somehow. As the car park came into view ahead of them, Harry was left to wonder if his best friend's metamorphosis was a byproduct of their dealings with the Voldemort and the Ministry the past year or something else entirely.


	3. When Will There Be Good News?

**Chapter Three: When Will There Be Good News?**

Once they were within the boundary of the car park Hermione pulled out a set of keys and made a beeline to an old, black Jeep Wrangler parked quietly near the opposite end of the lot. They climbed in quietly and Hermione tore out of the lot, only stopping to pay the toll at the exit. Their drive through Central London was a blur with the car's speedometer needle hovering over 95 kph the entire way.

Harry gripped the car's armrest as Hermione zipped in and out of lanes, either too frustrated or impatient to stay behind one car for long. _Probably both. _Soon, they were merging onto the mostly empty A4, allowing Harry a respite from Hermione's overtaking maneuvers. He glanced over at her and felt his heart lurch.

Hermione clenched her jaw reflexively as she tried to hold back her sobs. The road ahead of her was blurred by her tears, prompting her to breathe deeply in an effort to banish them. She shook herself mentally, _'Pull yourself together, Granger! You didn't just barely escape a gaggle of Death Eaters only to die in another fiery crash!'_

She could feel Harry's concerned gaze on her face as she sniffled quietly until finally, his hand enveloped hers on the center console between them. A shuddering breath rattled in her chest and she glanced over at Harry in gratitude before returning her attention to the motorway. The car sped past Charing Cross and they merged onto yet another motorway that Harry recognized as one that led to Surrey and voiced as much to Hermione.

She nodded, "I know. I live in Weybridge. I thought we could stop by Little Whinging while your _relatives _are out so we could get Hedwig and whatever else you need." She ground the word 'relatives' out while she spoke of them and Harry could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped the wheel tighter. She spoke lowly, "And it would be rude not to leave them a little something for their troubles."

Harry stared wide-eyed out the front windscreen, "Blimey! I hadn't even thought of the Dursleys," his voice grew distant, "wonder if they're alright. I hope Ron and Ginny got out alright."

"I'm sure Ron and Ginny are fine. Do you really think the Weasleys would have left without either of them?"

"No. That's true."

"And as for the Dursleys, with any luck that behemoth of a man dropped dead of a heart attack and landed on that stick of a woman the moment they saw the Death Eaters, while your cousin hid under the car, or _tried_ to from what you've told us."

Total silence rang out in the car for all of two seconds before both teens roared with laughter at the mental image that evoked. Harry could just imagine the horrified squeals Dudley must have produced at the sight that had greeted the Dursleys at the station. The possibility of their injury, even death didn't elicit much emotion in Harry. It was no secret that there was no love lost between Harry and his relatives. There was never any _real_ connection between them, familial or otherwise as far Harry was concerned. They hated Harry with everything they had, taking each and every opportunity to show it with varying degrees of violence and abuse, and he found he hated them much in kind. He gazed at Hermione's profile, her lips still turned up slightly in mirth. Hermione and Ron, his friends at Hogwarts, _they_ were his family.

* * *

Their little side trip to the Dursley residence turned out to be fruitful. They'd found Hedwig hopping on the couch, hooting in concern until she laid eyes on the two familiar forms. She immediately flew over to the pair and perched herself on Harry's outstretched arm. Hermione found herself inexplicably with tears in her eyes as she stroked the beautiful owl's snowy head. The events of the day had taken their toll on them both and it was manifesting itself in unpredictable and, in Hermione's case, emotional ways.

They didn't linger too long; just long enough for Harry to gather the remainder of his meager belongings and Hermione to leave behind a few surprises for the Dursleys should they have survived the attack. They all but fled the house as soon as their business was gone. The entire house reeked of an abnormal sense of normality that Hermione found disturbing. Everything was too _clean_, almost sterile. She'd grimaced at the photographs that littered the mantel over the fireplace...which was bricked up. Her brow furrowed. She must remember to ask Harry about that later.

* * *

By the time they entered St. George's Hill neighborhood in Weybridge it was nearly five in the afternoon and they were both starving. They turned onto a street lined with five houses on either side and the grandest by far, sitting at the end of the cul-de-sac. Hermione turned the car into the beautifully manicured driveway of a two-story Victorian house sitting comfortably near the middle of the block. A press of the button on her key fob opened the left garage door and Hermione slid into the spot easily.

As they entered the house, Harry took in what he supposed was the living room. The house held an inherent air of elegance provided by the grand staircase that took up residence to the left of the entryway, but everything else about the house had a wonderfully cozy feel to it. The staircase's sideboard wall had a light blue, cushioned bench that stretched the entire span of the wall with cubbies and coat pegs in the space above on which Hermione had hung her bag and gestured for him to do the same as she pocketed her keys. Pictures of Hermione with her parents sat in modern, different colored frames on the wall opposite. Harry smiled when he spotted one photo of a five year old Hermione opening Christmas presents, most of which were suspiciously book shaped, beside a man he assumed was her father.

"Make yourself at home, Harry. The living room is just through there, the washroom and kitchen are down the hall." Hermione called as she habitually went to the answering machine sitting on a small table settled against the photo laden wall and pushed play. A woman's voice echoed through the house as Hermione took the pile of mail addressed to her from the entryway table and followed Harry into the living room, plopping down on the plush gray couch. "Hermione sweetheart, your father and I are on our way to the airport. I wish you'd change your mind and fly out to meet us." Hermione faltered, placing the mail in her lap as her mother paused awkwardly, her voice dropping an octave in regret, "Listen, sweetheart, I know things haven't been great between us, and I know we had words last time we saw you. We all said things we didn't mean. Especially us. I just think we should try to move past it and this trip could help." Kara Granger's sad sigh echoed through the house as Hermione fiddled with the corner of an especially bright blue envelope addressed to her. "Well, if you change your mind there's still room on our flight, I asked. Emirates Flight 383. It doesn't leave until 6 tonight, so...you have some time." Hermione glanced at the clock. 5:10. Another sigh, this time resigned, "We'll give you a ring after when we land tomorrow. We love you."

Harry looked over at his best friend, a question in his eyes, "Hermione, what's going on? What did she mean you 'had words'?"

Her fingers continued to fiddle with the envelope, eyes never leaving it's colorful exterior before she suddenly jumped off the couch, slapping her hands on her thighs, making sure to look everywhere but Harry's eyes as she began moving about the room, "Nothing. Nothing important. Are you hungry, Harry? I'm starving! Why don't we order a take-away? How about Chinese?" Without waiting for an answer she fairly ran down the hall to the kitchen with a last bellow of, "Chinese it is!"

Five minutes later, Harry was still silently pondering Hermione's rather erratic behavior of late, only to be startled out of his musings by the object of his thoughts as she yelled from across the house, "Harry, can you turn on the news? I want to see if the Aurors managed to settle things at the station."

"Got it!" he shouted back.

The telly came to life with a low hum and _BBC News Report_ flashed on screen for a second before cutting to the newsreel. Harry turned the volume up for Hermione's benefit.

"Earlier today, a group of masked men carried out an attack at King's Cross station. MI-5 was informed and arrived on the scene only moments ago, reporting that they have no intelligence on who was responsible for the attack, but are referring to the incident as a 'tragic and blatant act of terrorism perpetrated by a group of faceless cowards.'" Hermione came in the room then and leaned against the doorframe, drying her hands on a teal and grey dishtowel as she watched the footage of the attack. "Dozens have been killed and at least 60 people have been taken to hospitals in the surrounding area, many in critical condition, with injuries that have many at a loss to explain. Some witnesses claim to have seen a large and severely damaged red train _between _platforms 9 and 10, where the majority of the damage occurred. Officials initially feared this meant a derailment, but the reports were shortly proved unfounded and were most likely a result of the chaotic and traumatic events ensuing at the time. The perpetrators were nowhere in sight when MI-5 arrived on the scene and a region wide search is underway. Meanwhile, the area _has_ been secured, and will remain closed pending a full investigation to be conducted by MI-5."

Harry turned down the volume as it changed over to the latest football scores. Turbulent green eyes bore into the coffee table and Hermione tossed the dish towel at him stating unequivocally, "Stop it," Harry looked up at her questioningly and Hermione rolled her eyes slightly and clarified, "It wasn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself for things you have no control over." She came over and threw herself next to him the couch, patting his leg gently as she did.

He turned his stormy eyes to hers, his jaw tense as of he wanted to scream, "Only it is, isn't it? They were looking for me! That's why they attacked! Because I'm the bloody 'Boy Who Lived!' And what did I do! I ran!"

Hermione shook her head and forced him to look into her eyes, "_No_, those people died because those Death Eater bastards killed them. _They're_ responsible, not you. And they may well have been looking for you, but it wasn't why they attacked," she sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair.

"What makes you say that?" he replied distractedly, watching her delicate hand brush through her chestnut hair.

"The Death Eater I killed was dismembering a little boy like he was an animal, like he was nothing. I remembered him from Hogwarts, Robbie Parker, 2nd Year, he was Muggleborn. They were making a statement, Harry. A show of power to let the Wizarding World know what they're capable of now. I have no doubt they were instructed to keep an eye out for you, but if that had been the purpose of the attack Voldemort would've sent someone higher ranking, like Lestrange, but he didn't." She mumbled the last part to herself and then smirked over at him, "Merlin, Harry, the way you go on you'd think the world revolved around you." she nudged shoulders with him playfully, trying not to wince as the action jostled her injured shoulder.

"Oi!"

Hermione shrieked with laughter as Harry lunged at her, poking her side. They both collapsed back into the couch with laughter, Hermione leaning into Harry's left side slightly.

A few minutes of mindless television and Harry mused aloud, "Its no wonder Malfoy didn't drop in on us the entire ride back. He and any other Death Eater children must've known about the attack and found another way home."

"Good point. I hadn't even noticed."

He looked over at her curiously, "How long do you reckon we have before the Order storms the house?"

She looked at the black watch on her wrist and hummed noncommittally. "It's getting late, it'll likely be a few hours before they realize that you're missing and even longer for them to think to look here. They'll probably try the Dursleys' and Grimmauld first," her brow furrowed, "I wonder if they know it's in probate?" she shook her head to clear it, "Anyhow, my guess is Remus will be here by midday tomorrow, if not earlier."

Harry scoffed, "Brilliant, so they'll either drag me back to the Dursleys or ship me off to the Burrow for the summer."

"You usually jump at any chance to stay at the Burrow. What's changed?"

"Nothing. Everything." He shook his head in frustration, "The last thing I want is everyone walking on eggshells around me and giving me those damned pitying looks. The Dursleys at least would ignore me for the most part, Mrs. Weasley on the other hand...I mean, it's not as if I don't appreciate everything she's done for me, but she really can be a bit..._overbearing_ sometimes. And after the last few weeks I'd be in for a whole summer of Mrs. Weasley's crying and suffocating hugs; Ron will try to ignore the whole thing, which would be fine if he wasn't so terrible at it. And Ginny will probably want me to _talk_ about it. I expect Fred, George and Mr. Weasley would be the only normal ones in the family, and that's saying something."

Hermione laughed at that, "Well you can always stay here if you like. Remus and Tonks warded the house after Mr. Weasley was attacked over the holidays."

"Really?" Harry turned hopeful eyes to her, "Won't your parents mind?"

"No, I'm sure they'll be glad to finally meet you properly after all these years."

She tried to play it off as nothing, but she wouldn't look him in the eye again, Harry noticed, and her voice was distant, almost as if she were talking to herself. He let it go for the time being.

"As much as I'd like to stay here we both know that Dumbledore won't allow it no matter what kind of protections the house has, not without someone around who can actually perform magic legally and keep an eye on the Wizarding World's instrument." He spoke savagely. He suddenly turned to look at her almost comically then, "Hang on, you still haven't told me how you managed to break the Trace on us. I mean, I know you're brilliant Hermione, but only the Ministry knows how to remove it and I'm guessing it wasn't exactly legal."

An uncomfortable heat crept up Hermione's neck at both the question and compliment and looked at Harry a little sheepishly. "Well, like I said, Tonks and Remus were here over the holidays and Tonks had some Ministry books with her. Just a few handbooks, manuals and the like. She _said _she was just brushing up on some of the revised procedures and spells, but when she and Remus went out back to ward the house she left them just sitting on the kitchen table, and - well, you know me, I couldn't resist taking a peek."

Harry shook his head in mock disbelief, "Hermione Granger, _voluntarily _and_ knowingly _breaking the law." She shot him a half-hearted glare and he laughed, "I guess Ron was right, we _have_ been a bad influence on you."

"_Anyhow_," she interrupted pointedly, "She must've known I would look because the page for the spell was bookmarked and everything. You know, for an Auror, Tonks is almost scandalously rebellious," she smiled.

"Well, with family like Sirius..." They shared a smiled at the thought. "And the license?"

"Like I said I don't actually have a license, I don't even have my provisional, yet. Strictly speaking, I shouldn't even _know_ how to drive until September, but I spent last summer at my great-grandmother's home in Wales and it has a lot of land. She let me try my hand at driving her old Rover with the condition that I wouldn't tell my parents and she gave me the Jeep for my birthday. All entirely legal since it was private land. I'd never hear the end of it if she knew I was driving it before I was seventeen though."

"What if the police pull you over?"

Hermione shrugged, "As long as I don't break any laws it shouldn't be a problem. They don't have any reason to suspect I'm _not_ seventeen so..."

He still persisted though, still not at convinced, "What happens if they pull you over anyway, because if I saw a couple of teenagers driving a car, alone, I'd be _pretty_ suspicious. What then?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation and pulled something out of her back pocket, "Then I'd show them _this_ and we'd be on our merry way."

Harry gaped at the card, "How did you get that?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"With a simple _Geminio_ spell on my mother's license and a few tweaks," she confided, her voice a notch higher than usual, "Oh don't look at me like that Harry! It's not as if I'm using it to buy whiskey! And we've done far worse, far more _illegal_ things in the past month!"

A sigh escaped him, "True. What'll happen if they run it through the system?"

She hummed noncommittally, "If they do decide it's necessary to run it then I just cast a small _Confundus _charm on them."

"Nice."

"Illegal, but it does the job. And as for the other thing: Screw him. Screw Dumbledore. He's our headmaster at school and _only_ at school. He can't very well _tell_ you where you can or cannot stay for the holidays. It's illegal. He can only give you advice."

Harry sighed and mumbled, "I don't think _he_ sees it that way."

There was a loud knock at the front door at which Hermione jumped off the couch, "Ooh, that'll be dinner."

She walked off towards the front of the house and when Harry noticed she had taken her wand with her he couldn't help but hear Moody's gravelly voice in his head. _Constant vigilance!_

When Hermione walked back into the living room with a large brown paper bag a minute later, Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and loosened his grip on his wand. Then it occurred to him that that looked like a lot of food for just the two of them.

The change went into a gray-tinted see-thru vase on the entryway table and Hermione must've seen the look on his face, "I figured you haven't had a lot of experience in the way of Chinese food living with the Dursleys, so I got a bit of everything." She placed the bag down on the coffee table and began heading to kitchen, "Do you want to eat in the dining room or watching something? I could go either way."

Harry could only stare after her, stupefied. He wasn't used to having choices, it wasn't often people gave him any, particularly of late. There was always someone to _tell_ him what to do, what was expected. At Hogwarts it was the professors, at Privet Drive there was always the Dursleys to depend on for that. Even at the Burrow, Mrs. Wesley liked to run a tight ship, as they say. Granted, she wasn't as restrictive as the others, but Hermione had just given him his first taste of absolute freedom and he silently wished it could last forever.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

Hermione's voice wafted through the house. Harry smiled, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why don't we eat over here and put a film in?"

Her head popped into view at the living room's back door and she smiled, "Alright, I'll grab plates and drinks. I think there might still be a couple bottles of Butterbeer left over from my last visit. My parents didn't seem to fancy it much," out of view once again she asked, "Pick a film would you Harry? They're all in that black cabinet in the corner."

Harry smiled again, "No problem!"

Dinner was a new experience for Harry. Well, multiple new experiences really. He had piled his plate with something from each little take-away box and Hermione had _tried_ to teach him to use the chopsticks. They had broken down with laughter when his last attempt resulted in a dumpling flying across the room and landing under an armchair after which Hermione declared him a lost cause. The film went mostly unseen by both, Brad Pitt's rattling off of the rules of Fight Club passing largely unnoticed in the background as they chatted and laughed.

A couple hours latter, as they settled into the couch after clearing the plates and bottles of Butterbeer and the stray dumpling away, they felt the weight of the day full force. The sun had yet to set, but it was an exhaustion that seemed to reach bone-deep. Hermione idly thought that they could have been lying in a pile of jagged rocks and still managed to have slept peacefully. An errant thought poked at Hermione and she unthinkingly voiced it, however sleepily, "I wonder if we'll have nightmares about it." Harry 'hmmmed' sluggishly from his place beside her but didn't appear to register it as her eyelids drooped further and her voiced dropped to a mumble, "Never killed anyone before."

They fell asleep that night with the lights on and the television glowing.

* * *

Light streamed in through the windows beside the couch and Harry stirred. There was a great weight on his right side and his arm was slightly numb. He blinked. It took a moment to realize that Hermione had snuggled into his side at some point during the night. Her legs were tucked under her, the entire length of her body pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder and his right arm holding her securely against him.

He slowly and carefully lowered his legs from where they sat locked on the coffee table, trying not to jerk Hermione awake when pain exploded in his joints as he tried to bend his knees. He must not have been as successful as he thought because Hermione was up in a flash, looking round wildly. When she took in their sleeping arrangements she only smiled apologetically up at Harry and said sheepishly, "Sorry."

"S'alright."

She untangled herself from his arm and stretched luxuriously, trying to rid her cramped muscles of the tension of sleep. _An oxymoron that has no business existing,_ she thought in annoyance_._ She checked the time and sighed. 8 in the morning. Her night had been punctuated by nightmares. Variations of the day before playing in her mind like some sick home movie. The worst variety were the ones in which she would awake in the compartment, unscathed but trapped, while Harry lay beside her dead. There was blood, always blood, that never changed. She wondered with a pang of worry if this is what Harry had to deal with on a daily basis and realized, no, it's worse for him.

As Hermione watched him stand up she realized that neither of them had changed out of their grimy clothes from the day before. Both were covered in soot and blood, and quite possibly some of the Death Eaters they had killed. Swallowing thickly, she decided not to dwell on that last one too long.

"We should probably get out of these clothes," it came out a grunt as she pushed herself off the couch, "Bathroom's upstairs, first door on the left. You go first, I'm not quite awake yet. I'll get breakfast started." She covered a yawn behind her hand, "Any requests?"

Harry smiled tiredly at her, "Anything's fine."

"Right, I'll check what we have."

When Harry came bounding down the stairs ten minutes later he found Hermione dipping thick slices of French bread into an egg mix. She had also apparently charmed a pair of tongs to flip and press the bacon in a neighboring pan. "Your turn. I'll take over down here."

"Thanks. Oh, put on a pot of coffee would you?" she said tiredly.

Harry sounded half amused, half concerned, "Make it strong, shall I?"

"Please!" Her voice came from upstairs.

By the time Hermione came back into the kitchen Harry was carrying two plates of French toast and bacon over to the table. She grabbed two mugs and the freshly brewed pot of coffee, following Harry out into the dining room. They ate in silence, Hermione, still feeling half-asleep, savoring her cup of coffee and gazing out the backdoor window into the garden before looking over at Harry and flinching violently, "Shite!"

Harry found his attention torn between Hermione's yelp of pain as the scalding coffee splashed onto her denim clad legs and the object of her surprise. A pair of enormous birds had perched themselves on the outer windowsill behind Harry! Harry stared at them in wonderment, they looked a lot like the eagle-owl he'd seen in his Care of Magical Creatures textbook, but the shape of their tails were different, long and fanned out. More strikingly, they had the coloring of an exotic tropical bird, shades of green and teal streaking the creatures' long, elegant feathers starting halfway down their bodies.

Hermione had by then cleared up the mess she'd made and cast a Cooling Charm on her scalded skin and was looking at the birds with curiosity. As her eyes travelled downward she spotted the pouches they were carrying, "What..." she and Harry hurried to unlatch the large window.

The birds swooped in, landing on the glass table with a quiet clatter of their claws and melodious hum of appreciation as the pair relieved them of their burden. Hermione dashed into the kitchen and emerged less than a minute later with two bowls of water and set them in front of the birds, stroking the one closest to her. Four long drinks and the birds off again, swooping over the table and out the open window, one bird narrowly missing the light fixture hanging over the table.

They bolted the window shut, Harry looking after the disappearing birds curiously, "What were those things?"

Hermione shook her head, "I have no idea, I've never seen anything like them."

They settled back into their seats, Harry opting to sit beside Hermione where he had a direct line of sight of all the exits, if only for his own peace of mind. Hermione seemed to notice this and smiled over at him in amusement as she picked up one of the pouches.

It was made of supple black leather and very light. She placed it back on the table and cast a quick spell to check for any concealed jinxes or curses. Satisfied when the pouch glowed blue, she opened it and carefully emptied it out onto the table. The contents spilled out with a loud _clank! _And Hermione took the offending item in her hand with a frown. A medallion. A very large, very _old,_ silver medallion with an elaborate crest and something written in a language she thought might be Greek. "At last, my secret desire for rare and ostentatious jewelry has been fulfilled. I can die happy." She quipped dryly.

Harry looked both amused and bemused as he studied his medallion. "There's a letter. Hopefully that'll explain it."

Hermione hummed in agreement, already breaking the letter's seal.

**London - Paris- New York - Los Angeles**

**Callahan, Campbell & Kingdom, LLP**

**Summit House, 12 Red Lion Square, London**

**Dear Miss Granger,**

**I hope this letter finds you well. As the late Lord Black's solicitor it is my duty to inform you that you have been named as one of the main beneficiaries in his Last Will and Testament. Your presence is thereby requested at the private will reading to be held this morning at eleven precisely in the London offices of Callahan, Campbell & Kingdom.**

**The enclosed medallion will act as a security measure. It has been charmed to remember the magical signature of the person who touches it. You will be required to present this before the will can be read.**

**Failure to appear will result in the forfeiture of all bequeathed items, properties and/or monies.**

**Sincerely,**

**Ian Campbell**

Hermione scrutinized the medallion for a few seconds, mumbling something about inadequate security systems and looked over at Harry solemnly, "So, Sirius' will."

Harry nodded absently, eyes still glued to the letter. "Up for another day in London?"

When it became apparent that no answer was forthcoming he looked up to see that Hermione's attention had been claimed by something else. Her sharp eyes were zeroed in on the letter's letterhead and the crest beside it, narrowed in concentration as she studied it closely. A checkered black and red shield with vines wrapped around it and a lion flanking each side. The phrase _Memento mori_ etched around the top. _Fitting._ She thought. It looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

Harry watched her with curiosity and ventured to ask tentatively, "Hermione, what are you doing?"

Her only response was to mutter, more to herself than for Harry's benefit, "I know this seal. Why do I know this seal?"

Intrigue covered his features as he scooted closer to her side, "Really? How?"

Hermione shook her head slowly, still obviously trying to sort through her thoughts. Something seemed to click a second later and she dropped the letter back on the table and ran up the stairs in a blur of brown hair.

"Hermione?" Harry debated following behind, but found he didn't have much time to decide. She came running back into the dining room with a tattered and aged piece of parchment and slammed it down next to the letter they had received with a sound of victory as she examined them, "I can't believe it. It's the same seal," she sat down heavily, shaking her head in disbelief. "I've been searching for this for _years_ and now it's just fallen right in my lap."

"What has? What is that?"

Hermione considered him silently before seemingly deciding something. She slid the two pieces of paper between them for Harry to examine. The piece of parchment Hermione had gone to retrieve was torn, only revealing half a seal and the first two letters of name, both of which were completed when overlaid the more recent letter. "I've had this since I was 3, I've been trying to find out where it was from since I started Hogwarts, but without knowing if it was Wizarding or Muggle its been near impossible. I thought I had a lead back in December, but it turned out to be a dead end."

The dots started to connect in Harry's mind. The phone message from yesterday, the fact that she hadn't joined her parents on their trip to Australia. She hadn't even gone home for Easter this year, had she? So, the last time she saw them was at Christmas, "'Mione, does this have something to do with the fight you and your parents had?" Harry asked carefully.

Her eyes locked with his unwaveringly, "Yes. It has everything to do with it actually." She smiled shakily at him and swallowed hard, "They aren't my parents."

Harry was flummoxed, all he could manage was a strangled, "What?"

"Kara and David Granger aren't my biological parents." She clarified.

He gestured for her to continue.

"They adopted me when I was 2. They couldn't have kids of their own, and they wanted children so badly they decided to adopt. I found out when I got my Hogwarts letter. I asked them if there were any other witches or wizards in our family and they said - well they said they didn't know, because they weren't my birth parents." She paused to see that Harry was absorbing it all with a look of complete shock, "They said that when they adopted me, the orphanage had given them a small music box that they found me with, folded into the blankets. This," she gestured at the paper, "was folded inside, tied around a silver locket. I know it's a long shot, but I'm _hoping_ the fragment will lead me to some answers about my real parents."

"And the fight?" Harry asked quietly.

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly that if Harry weren't watching her closely he'd have missed seeing it all together, "Things changed between us when I started Hogwarts. They never treated me badly or anything like that," she was quick to assure him when he began looking suspicious, "but we started to drift apart," she shook her head sadly, "You should have seen their faces when I got my letter. As if they were thinking, _This is _**_not_**_ what we signed up for._ After that I'd see them looking at me, almost like they didn't know me anymore. I'll admit it was partly my fault, I told them hardly anything about my life at Hogwarts and eventually they stopped asking. So, we avoided the subject. We went on holidays abroad and had a good time and we didn't talk about it."

Comprehension dawned on Harry, "But then Mr. Weasley was attacked over Christmas and Remus and Tonks had to erect wards around the house-"

She smiled a little bitterly and nodded as she completed his thought, "And everything went to hell," she wiped away a stray tear. "They had no idea what had been going on in the Wizarding World, no idea that _my_ world was so close to 'bloody all out war' as dad put it. They threatened to pull me out of Hogwarts and I dared them to try. Then they gave me a choice: them or the Wizarding World, said they weren't about to risk their lives in a war they had no business being a part of, or for a daughter that wasn't even really theirs," she felt Harry's arm wind itself around her shoulders as more tears fell and this time her smile really was bitter, "Well, you can imagine my response to that. I told them they could go to hell, that they stopped being my parents the day I found out I was adopted anyhow, and I packed my things and ended up at headquarters. That's why I stayed there over the holidays and why I didn't come home for Easter. They wrote to apologize about a week after it all happened, but I just couldn't bring myself to forgive them at the time. I still can't."

Harry pulled her to him and she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, releasing months worth of heartache and pain. Her hands gripped his shoulders almost painfully, only driving Harry to pull her closer until she was in his lap and he was running his fingers through her loose hair soothingly.

Once she'd calmed down Harry felt compelled to ask the question he'd been holding back from the beginning, "'Mione, why didn't you ever tell us?"

She sniffled and pulled back, "Year after year you've had to deal with those _horrible_ people. And I know I got lucky with the Grangers, they actually give a damn and _tried_ to understand. I just didn't want to rub it in, I didn't want you to hate me," she responded quietly.

Harry pulled her gesticulating hands into his, "Hermione, first of all, I could never hate you. You infuriate me and annoy me," she let out a watery laugh, "but I'll always be here for you. And I don't want you to ever feel you can't tell me something. Even if you think it might hurt my feelings, tell me anyways, please."

"I will, I promise, if you promise the same."

"Deal," he retorted, smiling.

She'd caught sight of the clock and gasped, jumping out of Harry's lap. "Oh! It's nearly ten, we have to get going, it's at least an hour's drive to London. I'm just going to go freshen up and then we can go."

Harry looked at his watch and called after her, "Do you know where to go once we get there?"

"Vaguely!"

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, "That's not very reassuring!"

She came back into the room with a gray satchel, smaller than her leather one, slung across her body and a lightweight white jacket over her top and jeans. With a wave of her wand she levitated the plates into the kitchen sink. "Oh, don't look so worried. I've been in that part of London before and it'll be more a matter of finding parking than the building at this time of day." Harry seemed appeased by that, but was starting to look a little green again and Hermione was herself was beginning to feel a bit shaky. She held up the keys and gave him a nervous smile, "So, once more unto the breach, then?"


	4. The Lines in the Sand

**Chapter 4: The Lines in the Sand**

Their drive up to London was largely spent in silence. Hermione had turned the radio on, but with both occupants engrossed in their own thoughts neither could've been relied on to say whether they had been listening to AC/DC or U2.

For Harry, the imminent meeting heralded the end of something. It left a never-ending, empty pit in his stomach he couldn't seem to crawl out of. It wasn't that the will reading would make Sirius' death all the more real. It was damn real enough for him as it was, thank you very much. He'd not only lost his godfather, the only father figure he'd ever really had in his life, but the hope he had been holding onto for the last two years. It was the death of a dream. The dream of a happy life outside of Hogwarts. Ever since Sirius made the offer to come live with him in Harry's 3rd year he had always considered, perhaps naively, that it would only a matter of time before it came into fruition. He'd have a family, however small, that cared about and loved him and actually _wanted_ him around, a family to come home to on holidays. It never seriously occurred to him that Sirius might not be around to make it come true.

_What now?_ He'd never felt more alone in his life. He still had Moony he supposed, and he knew he could always count on Hermione and Ron to be there for him, but that was different. They had their own lives to live, with their own families. Well, it seemed that last part may no longer be the case for Hermione, he considered.

He looked over at the girl in question and saw she was worrying her bottom lip the way she always did whenever she was preoccupied. It occurred to him that that what he was feeling must be nothing compared to what Hermione was going through. She had had a happy family life up until recently, and now nothing would ever be the same for her. People she thought she could trust had betrayed her in the most fundamental way possible, she had admitted herself that she hadn't quite forgiven them for what they'd said.

Hermione, on the other hand, was uselessly listing the pros and cons of what she was about to do. She had to do this, it was just a matter of being prepared for it. This was the first solid lead she had found in regards to her birth parents but she was trying not to get her hopes up.

Still, after they'd read Sirius' will she would explain her circumstances to this Mr. Campbell and ask about any sealed wills from 14 years ago. If nothing came of it, she reasoned, she would be no worse off than she was now. However, if **_Callahan, Campbell & Kingdom_ **had indeed handled her parents' will, then she could be on the brink of discovering the answers to the questions she's had for the last six years. It was all so potentially life changing. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the unbidden thought.

_Oh, crap, _she thought, her hands tightening in the steering wheel to stop them shaking. It only served to set Harry's teeth on edge as the car wobbled slightly.

* * *

By the time they entered London Proper both their nerves were torn to shreds, though each refused to let it show for the other's sake. Luck, it seemed, was on their side and they managed to secure a parking space a little ways down the road just as its previous occupant, a young, harried looking man, pulled out of it. It wasn't a long walk down to office building, but it might as well been eternity for the nervous pair.

They stopped a moment outside the stone building to collect themselves. Hermione took a quiet breath, needlessly smoothing out her white top before turning to Harry and saying quietly, "Ready?"

He shook his head, staring up at the building's shining beige facade and decorative black bars with a look of dread. Hermione did the same, standing patiently beside him, hands folded in front of her.

A few seconds passed.

"You ready?" she asked again.

This time he nodded, taking a deep breath and walking up the steps. Hermione followed, her hands unconsciously clenched around her bag's long strap.

The interior of the building served for making them forget their nerves momentarily. It was like walking into a time warp. In place of the cold, stuffy atmosphere they expected of a law firm, they found a lobby that looked as though it belonged in the 1920s. Geometric light fixtures hung from the ceiling all along the hallways and lobby, bathing the room in a soft light and reflecting off the polished marble floors. A large chevron pattern was stamped on the gold lift doors and sconces, and sitting atop the elevator shaft, a brushed chrome sunburst framed the floor numbers. It looked to Hermione as though it could be the setting for one of Fitzgerald's stories, just what she'd always imagined a 20s New York hotel to look like.

The woman sitting behind the lobby desk looked up at their arrival. She was young, probably in her late-20s, Hermione guessed. She sat very erect in her seat, a rather stark contrast to her hair, which was pulled into a casually loose bun, pieces of honey blonde hair framing her face. Her sharp gray eyes considered them curiously, though not unkindly.

"Morning. Can I help?" she asked curiously.

"Hello. We're looking for Mr. Ian Campbell. Could you direct us to his office, please? He's expecting us shortly," Hermione replied politely.

"Oh, you must be his eleven 'o'clock," she said with a surprised smile, "His office is on the top floor, end of the hall. Just turn left getting out of the lift and you'll be alright."

"Thanks," Harry said with a small smile, making their way to the gold lift.

"Good luck!" they heard the receptionist call after them as the lift doors slid closed.

"It'll be fine," Hermione intoned suddenly, and Harry nodded, though he had a feeling she was talking to herself more than anything.

The lift jerked to a stop and the doors opened. They did as they were directed, but as they passed an intersecting corridor Hermione stopped short, leaving Harry to do the same beside her.

"'Mione, what is it?" He looked down the corridor in question curiously.

Hermione turned to him with troubled eyes and gestured vaguely toward the corridor.

"I - D-Did you see - I could've _sworn_ -" but she seemed to shake herself suddenly, "No, nothing. Nothing, never mind. It's impossible."

She turned on her heel and began walking more briskly than before and Harry followed, wondering what the hell had just happened. They soon found themselves face to face with a large set of double doors and an onyx name plaque:

**Ian Campbell, Esquire**

**Sr. Partner**

After a moment's hesitation Hermione knocked on the black double doors firmly, shaking her hand out beside her as pain rippled through her knuckles.

"Enter," a deep voice called from within.

They shared a fleeting glance before Harry grasped the ornate gold doorknob and twisted. As they walked in their eyes were automatically drawn to the large desk that stood in front of a set of panoramic windows overlooking the quiet street below. The man behind the desk was aged. He had a slim frame and a lined face that spoke of a tumultuous life, a pair of glasses were perched low on his angular nose as he observed them over their rims. All these characteristics together lent him a look of frailty that Hermione felt sure did not exist. For, framed by a rather bushy set of eyebrows, his pale blue eyes belied his years and looked more lively and sharp than those of most people she knew. And these bright eyes were focused on her, regarding her, and then Harry, in an almost alarmed fashion.

"Er, hello, Mr. Campbell. I'm Hermione Granger and this is-"

"Mr. Harry Potter," Mr. Campbell interrupted, seeming quite normal once more. "Yes, I've been expecting you, though I wasn't entirely sure you would be here given all the excitement yesterday. Come in and take a seat."

He gestured toward the two plush, leather chairs opposite his desk and Harry and Hermione sat down, backs straight, feeling far too tense to sit back.

Mr. Campbell smiled slightly at their unease, "Relax. It's not as though its your wills we're reading," he chuckled shortly, but neither of his guests joined in, "Sorry, a bit of gallows humor. Find it helps sometimes..."

"No, it's alright, Mr. Campbell. You have to understand that all of this has come as a bit of a shock to us is all," Hermione said, gesturing between her and Harry, "We didn't even know Sirius _had_ a will, let alone we were in it."

"Ah, I see. And this is a fairly recent loss, yes, I see. Well, we shall endeavor to get through this quickly then, eh? Rip the plaster off and all that?" he said kindly, and Harry and Hermione nodded and added as an afterthought, "Oh, and do call me Ian, my dear. No need to be so formal."

"Only if you call us Harry and Hermione," Hermione said with a smile, already comfortable with the grandfatherly gentleman.

Ian laughed, "Very well, Hermione." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file, laying it open on his desk. "Now, before we begin, do you have the medallions?"

They both nodded, retrieving them from their pockets and placing them on the desk. Ian opened yet another drawer and this time retrieved what looked to be an unusually long fountain pen. _His wand. How clever!_ Hermione thought. He tapped each medallion, waiting for the answering green sparks to emerge from the little pendants before nodding, satisfied.

"Right, all in order there. Can't be too careful these days," Ian remarked grimly. He lifted the first page in the file slightly and cleared his throat. Beside her, Hermione could practically _feel _the tension that had built up in Harry and placed a hand on his arm.

"_I, Sirius Orion Black, being of sound mind, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament._

_Upon my death, I hereby appoint Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Granger and no others as the executors of my estate and business._

_Control of my estate and the Black family title shall pass on to Harry James Potter effective immediately, granting him the full powers and privileges they entail, including his immediate emancipation. It's the least I could do for you now, Harry._

Harry inhaled sharply and Hermione gripped his arm, smiling sadly over at him, happy, but not surprised. She'd had feeling Sirius'd have something like this up his sleeve.

_Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, I feel I should start off by saying I'm sorry. If you're reading this, then I've gone and gotten myself killed before you came of age, Harry, just as Molly always warned me I would. On the upside, at least I've been spared her tongue-lashing and the endless days of 'Now, _**_what_**_ did I tell you!' Maybe there is a god!_

Both Harry and Hermione gave a watery laugh at that, knowing full well it would've been the reality.

_I know this has come as a surprise to you two, especially you, Hermione. And I know it isn't fair of me to put this on you, either of you, but there are very few people left in this world that I well and truly trust and, for reasons that will become clear, you're all I have left. Apart from Moony, of course._

_Now comes the really important bit. Along with the deeds and bank information, I've enclosed two letters for the pair of you. Read them, and burn them._

_As for the rest, I've left a detailed list of who gets what and all that so don't worry yourselves over that. Harry, the rest is for you to do with what you will, though I have included a few suggestions, and, if I know Hermione, she'll have more than a few ideas of her own. Listen to her._

_Everyone always says life is short, but they're wrong, at least in my case. And you of all people know these last years have been less than happy for me, so don't mourn me for too long, eh? Just know that I love you, Harry. You can't imagine how much I regret not being able to be there for you again, not being there to help you through the dark times ahead. And I shudder to think of the dating advice you'll get from Moony!_

_Harry, Hermione, not everything is as it seems. Be safe, and stick together you two. And Hermione, look after him for me. I know he can be as pig-headed as Ron sometimes, but if anyone can talk some sense into him, its you._

Hermione put an arm around Harry's back, rubbing small circles as he tried to hide his silent tears, while she whisked away her own tears, sniffling quietly.

"But why us? Hermione and I are still underage. Why didn't he name Remus as his executor?" Harry managed to choke out at length.

"That, I am afraid, is the work of the Ministry. Werewolves, and other beings considered 'half-breeds' can _accept_ an inheritance, but they cannot hold the position of executor under any circumstances." Ian replied quietly.

"But why? Being a werewolf hasn't got anything to do with _anything_. It's not as if executors only go about their business during the full moon or something, do they!" Harry exclaimed, outraged on Remus' behalf.

"No, no they don't," Ian chuckled. "The issue is more politically driven than anything, Harry."

"You mean the Ministry's afraid that if they gain that amount of power over 'pure wizards'' legal affairs, they could eventually amass enough social and political power to rise up against them," Hermione ventured, wiping away an errant tear.

Ian nodded. "Precisely. The Ministry has enacted any number of laws to prevent 'half-breeds' from ever gaining even a _modicum_ of the rights and wealth afforded to full wizards. Power and money, my dear, is within the grasp of very few, and the Ministry would much rather it stayed that way," he was silent for a beat. "And as for age, you must keep in mind that the Wizarding World is very different from the Muggle, particularly where family legacies are concerned. They must carry on no matter the circumstances. But enough of that," he pulled out a long piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere and sliding it across to them, "By signing this you accept your roles as executors of the Mr. Black's estate, and affirm that you will carry out his last wishes to the best of your abilities."

Harry picked up the elegant pen without a second thought, while Hermione scanned the long document briefly before doing the same. Before the ink even had a chance to dry properly, the parchment glowed white, at which Ian hummed in satisfaction and rolled it up once more.

"And now," Ian said, pulling out another, shorter parchment, "Harry, if you would sign this, it will complete the will transfer control of the Black estate and title to yourself, thereby releasing you from the care of your guardians and allowing you to perform magic without restriction."

Harry fairly lunged at the document, pen poised, and neither Harry nor Hermione could find it in themselves to suppress their joy when the document glowed. He was actually shot of the Dursleys!

"Letters, bank statements, deeds and everything else that comprises the Black estate is in this folder," he slid the inch and a half thick folder toward them. He took one look at their shocked faces and quipped, "Yes, one would think being wealthy would entail less paperwork, but alas..."

They shook themselves from their stupor with weak smiles and Hermione tucked the enormity of their task into her grey satchel.

"Actually, I have a few rather pressing questions of my own, if you don't mind?" The elderly man bowed his head slightly for her to continue, a smile pulling at his mouth at her formal address, "You see, I've recently found some evidence that suggests my birth parents may have been one of your clients. I don't know whether they were Wizards or Muggles, but I was wondering if there was any way of finding out who they were?"

Ian's eyes widened marginally at the request and once again he was scrutinizing Hermione carefully, searching for something. What, she had no idea, but it appeared he had found whatever it was a few seconds later.

"Tell me, what do you know of the Le Feys, my dear?" Ian inquired.

She stole a peek at Harry from the corner of her eye, obviously confused by the turn in the conversation but replied nonetheless, "They were an old, predominantly dark family dating back to the times of Merlin. There're a lot conflicting views of Morgana Le Fey, the most recognizable member of the family. She was said to have been King Arthur's half-sister, but her _true_ alliances are still a mystery factually speaking. Most of her life has been obscured by legends and speculation. Some accounts herald her as a healer, others as Merlin and King Arthur's enemy. Whatever the truth may be, the line of Le Fey ended nearly a century ago and - Oh! Oh, you're not serious!" Her face was the picture of shock. "B-but that line died out!"

Ian raised one bushy white eyebrow in subdued amusement at the young lady, "Now, now Miss Granger, you obviously have a very sharp mind. You must realize that very few bloodlines ever _truly _end. Most marshal on, perhaps not as _directly_ as they once did, but _some_ trace of the original family blood still persists, however diluted."

"Hang on. You're saying Hermione is the Le Fey heir - er - heiress?" Harry jumped in, unable to hold back any longer.

Ian nodded.

"But you can't be certain, surely!" Hermione replied shrilly, a hint of panic beginning to creep into her voice. _A descendent of one of the oldest dark Wizarding families? No! Not happening, not bloody well possible, NO! I am _**_not _**_one of those inbred bigots like Malfoy! He's wrong. Simple as that. Oh god, what if he's not?_

Ignorant of the turmoil currently rolling through her mind, Ian smiled warmly at Hermione, "I am sure you noticed my rather odd reaction upon meeting you both today. While Mr. Potter here is likely quite used to being the center of attention when he walks into a room - _however unwillingly_ - it was Miss Granger who felt the brunt of that particular burden on this occasion." His smile turned sad, wistfully even. "Now it comes out, after all these years. You see I once knew a young woman. Yes, I know that may come as a surprise to you, I suppose your generation views anyone over 35 as quite decrepit, as mine once did." He chuckled merrily as he watched Harry squirm slightly at being caught out. "Now, this young woman was exceedingly _stubborn_ and outspoken. A fault, some would call it, but those closest to her viewed it as an asset, she was steadfastly loyal to those who proved themselves worthy and stood by and defended her principles unflinchingly." His smile dimmed, "Perhaps a little _too _fearlessly. She was a witch, you see, the daughter of one my father's clients, and a very close friend of mine from childhood.

"And now comes the answer you have been awaiting so patiently, Hermione. As you may well have guessed by now, _this_ is the reason for my peculiar reaction when you entered my office earlier. You are the spitting image of your grandmother my dear, it is almost as though it were she who stares back at me now.

"Cora had a daughter, she and her husband were killed during the first war. They had a child. A girl, barely two, and she went missing the night her parents died. Nobody ever found out what happened to her. One of the biggest mysteries of our generation."

Hermione shook her head numbly. "Y-You still can't be _sure..."_

Ian smiled mysteriously at her denial and shook his head genially, "No, _I_ cannot be absolutely sure."

He walked over to the ornate cabinet that stood adjacent to his desk, quickly unlocking it and retrieving whatever he was searching for. The basin he placed before them was small, but intimidating, curved, black spikes protruding from all sides and acting as pseudo-handles. Hermione and Harry eyed it curiously.

"A bit foreboding, I know. It's something of a novelty to us actually, an innovation from one of our younger associates, Alastair Dunstan. Very promising lad. It uses blood magic - nothing sinister," he promised, seeing the look of trepidation that crossed their faces. "These runes here connect it to our filing system containing all our magical clients' wills. This simply uses your blood to find a match based on genealogy. It's come in great handy where sealed wills are concerned." He looked at Harry curiously for a moment, "Actually, we recommend _all_ our clients to try it, helps us clean house so to speak."

"So, do I just-" Hermione gestured at the device nervously.

Ian's eyes snapped back to her, "Ah, yes, yes! Simply touch your finger to the tip of the prong inside. It's made of purified obsidian, very sharp, it'll do the trick."

Hermione extended her finger and breathed deeply. _You can do this. You HAVE to do this! Oh, just DO it!_

She felt the skin break before she had even properly pressed her finger to the spike, drawing blood in an instant. The next second, three files materialized in mid-air and fell to the desk with a thunk that made everyone but Ian flinch in surprise.

Hermione stared between the files and the basin curiously. She studied the basin more closely, peering at the runes as though they might come to life and explain themselves, and Harry had to bite back a laugh. Only Hermione would ever let her thirst for knowledge get the better of her at a time like this.

"This is amazing," she marveled quietly, "Incredibly advanced. I'd like to meet whoever designed this, it's brilliant!"

Ian caught Harry's eye, sharing an amused smile before clearing his throat quietly.

Her head shot up and suddenly the enormity of what was about to happen settled back into her stomach.

"Right, sorry. Shall we?" She fidgeted with her bag, twisting the thick leather strap one direction and then another as Ian flipped through the three folders. Suddenly, Harry's larger hand landed gently on her own fidgeting ones and she looked over at him. He smiled reassuringly, giving her hands a small squeeze and Hermione felt herself relax fractionally. She smiled minutely, inclining her head in silent thanks.

"Ah! Yes, this is the one."

And she was in knots again. Ian noticed and hesitated. Cora's voice suddenly floated through his mind, mingling with the memories of that dreadful day, _'Just give me the facts, Ian, only the facts.'_

"Would you prefer we only focused on the practicalities today, my dear? Just a general overview and some paperwork, just the facts. Then you can look through the rest later, in private."

Hermione nodded, most of the tension leaving her shoulders, and she smiled shakily at Ian in gratitude. Ian smiled gently, _Every bit like her grandmother._

"Your mother's name was Alexandra Astley née Walsh, only child, she worked for the Ministry in the Department of Experimental Magic. Your father was Mason Astley, one brother, deceased, worked for the Ministry as an Auror. Your parents registered you as Addison Irene Astley," he paused and glanced up to see how Hermione was taking all this and found Harry doing the same. She seemed a bit shell-shocked, but nodded for him to continue. "Your parents left instructions that both the Walsh and Astley vaults and estates, as well as the Le Fey estate, be passed directly to you as early as your eleventh birthday in the event of their deaths."

He retrieved a tiny envelope from the back of the packet and slid its contents into his hand before presenting them to Hermione. Hermione took the delicate ring and examined it silently. It was beautiful, the delicate dark grey band was engraved with the words _numquam obliviscar _which elegantly twisted around the band whose sharp edges curved almost seductively onto the flat, square onyx stone perched atop the ring. Her attention returned to the engraving.

"_'Never forget',_" she said quietly and looked up in question. "Whose was this?"

"It was last worn by your grandmother and by her mother before her. It's the Le Fey family ring. Traditionally, these rings are worn by the head of the family and imbue them, quite literally, with the authority and prestige that comes with the title. By placing this ring on your finger, you accept your birthright and inheritance."

Hermione felt her hand shake slightly at the pronouncement but doggedly steeled herself and slid the heirloom onto her right ring finger. She jumped, startled by the warm tingle that seemed to spread from the ring itself as it tightened comfortably around her finger, apparently accepting its new owner in return.

"What happened to me that night? Why wasn't I killed along with my parents?" She asked quietly.

"I don't know. Cora search for years, she never found so much as a trace. All we know is that you had to have been taken away from your parents house at some point during the attack. Cora had been at the house only an hour or so earlier, and then, suddenly, you were gone and your parents dead."

"Who killed them?" There was a hint of repressed anger in her tone as she asked the question.

"Death Eaters. Sent by their master to eliminate the last of the Le Fey line. The Le Feys have a rather storied past you see, you were right in saying that it was a predominantly dark family, the more direct descendants that remained certainly were. That is, until some 80 years ago, when Lisbeth Mallory, the last of the line's direct descendants died and the estate and title was passed on to your great-grandmother, Eleanor. It was the dawn of a new age for the Le Feys, it marked the end of their dark ambitions and practices."

"So they were killed for ruining the family name and letting all that power go to waste," Hermione exclaimed, angry tears pooling in her eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," Ian replied somberly, "As I said, your grandmother was always very outspoken. It was widely known that she vehemently opposed Voldemort and his followers, their vision for the future. Voldemort had knowledge of the Le Fey family, of their former legacy, and he saw the change not only as a betrayal, but a weakness. A sign of how far the family had fallen by, as you put it, my dear, letting all that power go to waste. Cora never forgave herself for what happened," a lifetime of sadness seemed to come down on him now.

"He killed them over a matter of pureblood _pride_," Hermione said in disbelief, all the anger drained from her.

"It would appear so, yes. However, another theory might be that, in ending the Le Fey line, Voldemort had hopes of _gaining_ their legacy somehow. They are an ancient family after all, who knows what secrets and powers they had managed to amass through the centuries. Well, he was certainly disappointed on that count wasn't he?" Ian smiled sadly, sliding over the three folders, which Hermione mindlessly tucked away as a million questions began rolling around in her mind. Ian turned to Harry abruptly. "Your turn now, Harry!"

"Me? But-But why? I mean, I already know who my parents are!" Harry sputtered in surprise, pushing away from the desk as though it might eat him.

Hermione looked over at him in alarm, startled out of her thoughts while Ian appeared to be keeping his laughter in check at Harry's reaction.

"Yes, Harry, and they were one of our clients as well. But I'd be willing to wager that you've never seen your parents' will, have you?" Harry shook his head thoughtfully and Ian frowned, "No, I thought not. Well, go on then, Harry, won't hurt a bit."

Hermione observed Ian's reaction with unease, and was left with a whole _new_ set of questions.

No sooner had they popped into her head than a new stack of folders materialized and dropped to the desk with a _thump!_ As Ian shuffled through them, Hermione and Harry shared a look of bewilderment. This was getting odd, first Sirius' vague warnings, then Hermione's mysterious disappearance as a child and now this. _What was going on?_

Ten minutes later Hermione was maneuvering three more folders into her bag and Harry was wearing the Potter ring, an intricate gold band with a blood red stone, on his right hand.

"So, this firm works around the Ministry, right?" Hermione remarked, wrestling with a stubborn corner of a file.

"Yes, we're what you'd call a private sector security firm for Muggles and Wizards alike. Our clients are mostly high profile or wealthy individuals desirous of safeguarding their private dealings from the Ministry. That's not to say of course that we are entirely out of their purview. They still have the ability to seize any property that is not claimed in the case of unsealed wills. However, as a private firm, we do not often find ourselves obliged to reveal any of our clients' other private matters to the Ministry."

"But, doesn't that mean that using Gringotts would be out of the question? The Ministry can monitor their transactions. Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

"It would if we used Gringotts," Ian said slyly. "But, of course, we don't. We use Barclays."

Harry and Hermione did a double take.

"Sorry, you did say…" Harry started, baffled.

"Barclays, yes," Ian confirmed calmly. "We've been doing business with them since my great-grandfather started this firm. They have a Wizarding department that handles all our needs tucked away in their international division, all very hush-hush. Only ask to speak to the Director of the Foreign Financial Advisory Board, they'll be expecting you. Our system is tied into theirs."

"Another innovation from, Mr. Dunstan?" Hermione ventured, to which Ian simply smiled. Hermione shook her head ruefully. "I really _must_ meet him sometime."

"I'm sure we could arrange that," Ian replied with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. He stood from his plush chair and Harry and Hermione followed suit.

"Now, you two let me know if you have _any_ questions about _any _of this_,_" he said warmly and turned to Hermione, "And as for you, my dear. When you're ready, come see me. I have more than a few tales of your parents that will make you roar with laughter."

Hermione smiled gratefully and she hugged the kindly old man.

"Thank you," she whispered sincerely.


End file.
